Chapter 10

10

T he harsh wind slammed against Jenna's back and sent shivers down her spine. Branches from the trees surrounding her two-bedroom bungalow swayed, their leaves swept up in the torrent of air and swirled against the blue sky. A soul-crushing need to see her baby hurried her up the porch steps and through the front door.

Her mind hadn't stopped spinning since parting ways with Calvin at Lulu's. He'd wanted her to come home with him, but she'd refused. As unsettling as his new theory was, it was based on emotion, not facts. And as much as she trusted Calvin, his hunch wasn't enough to uproot Oliver and stay under the same roof as a man who'd gotten under her skin in more ways than one.

A man she'd have a hard time getting over again when this mess was all over.

But what if Calvin was right? She didn't have problems with anyone in town. Although his theory held merit, she had a hard time believing anyone could hate her enough to murder an innocent woman.

A squeal of laughter lifted her heart as she stepped inside. Warmth blossomed from her core, pushing away the chill from the late October air.

"How's everyone doing today?" She hung her keys on the hook before turning into the living room toward the sounds of Oliver's laughter. When she spun around, fear made her vision blurry and heart stop for a beat.

A man dressed in black with a stiff white collar sat on the couch and bounced Oliver on his knee. Grief unmistakable in his red-rimmed eyes.

"Hello. Can I help you with something?" Worry tightened her chest.

The man stood with Oliver in his arms. "Dr. Simon, I'm Father Bowman. The priest at the local parish in Pine Valley where your sister attended. I stopped by to tell you I'm so sorry for your loss and everything else that's been thrown at you the last couple days."

Unease settled in Jenna's gut. "I appreciate that. I don't mean to be rude, but why exactly are you here? And where is Mrs. Franklin?"

"I'm right here," her sitter called, rushing down the hallway. "Father Bowman came by to pay his respects. He wanted to speak with you about the funeral."

Jenna forced a tight smile. "Thank you for coming, Father. It's nice to meet you." She met the priest in the middle of the living room. She shook his hand before taking her child then back-peddling to perch on the tufted armchair with Oliver in her lap.

"I got the water all ready for Oliver's bath," Mrs. Franklin said, reaching out to take the little boy. "Figured it'd give you two a chance to talk alone."

Jenna didn't want to give up Oliver, didn't want to be separated from him. But there was no reason not to let Mrs. Franklin take him. She gave him a squishy hug before handing him over.

Father Bowman wiped his palms on the thighs of his black trousers. "Sorry for the intrusion. I know you have a lot going on. I just wanted to touch base."

Jenna waved away his apology. "I appreciate you taking the time." She took in the man's broad shoulders and head full of thick, black hair peppered with gray. He was more like George Clooney than the stooped over priests she knew as a child. Yet something struck her as familiar. "Have we met before?"

"I'm at the hospital sometimes. Praying with families and the sick. Offering council. Just part of the job." He shrugged then sighed, a deep frown pulling down the lines of his face. "Unfortunately, this is also a big part of my job. Stella was a beloved member of our parish and will be greatly missed. I wanted to offer to hold her funeral service at the church. The congregation will take an offering to pay whatever expenses her insurance doesn't cover."

Jenna squeezed her clasped hands in her lap. Funeral arrangements were on her list, but shame filled her that she hadn't given much thought to specifics. "I don't even know where to start."

"You have enough on your plate. Just let the church handle things. We'll take care of her."

Gratitude closed her eyes for a beat. "Thank you."

"I'll get out of your hair. I'll be in touch when arrangements are made."

Calvin had mentioned speaking with someone at the businesses Stella worked for, the church being one of them, but she might as well ask a few questions while Father Bowman was here. "Did Stella clean your church?"

Father Bowman's long lashes flicked with a few, fast blinks, as if taken aback by the unexpected question. "Yes, she did. She did a great job."

"Was she close to anyone there?" She had no clue what questions she should ask, but it made sense to find out if Stella had other friends she or Calvin should know about.

Father Bowman furrowed his brow. "I'm afraid I don't know too much about Stella."

"What about the staff? With Stella cleaning there daily, she might have struck up a friendship with someone she saw there frequently."

Father Bowman lifted his hands and shrugged. "I wouldn't know. Most evenings when Stella cleaned, I was either taking communion to elderly members who can't make it to services or hearing confession. I didn't have much contact with her, other than the occasional chit-chat after Mass. I can give you the information for the administrative staff who dealt with Stella and her company."

"That'd be great," Jenna said. "Anyone we can talk to is another possible witness, another person who might have the information we're missing."

"Missing information?" Father Bowman's face crumpled in confusion. "And why would you need to speak with witnesses? Aren't the police investigating what happened to Stella?"

"Yes, but I need to find answers," Jenna said, knowing in her bones she'd never be at peace until she knew exactly what had happened to her sister.

"Makes sense. We're all hurting over Stella. Deaths like this hit everyone hard." Father Bowman crossed the room to the door.

"Thank you again for stopping by." Jenna offered a hand. He opened the door and the cold air rushed in. "You'll need to start wearing a coat soon. It's getting cold."

The side of Father Bowman's mouth slid into a shy smile. "Nah. I'm use to the cold weather. Where I'm from, it makes Tennessee winters feel like spring."

"Well, we're glad you're here in Tennessee now. Land of sun, rain, and snow—sometimes all in the same week."

Father Bowman laughed. "I'm looking forward to the cold."

Jenna chuckled then closed the door after a final goodbye. Oliver's laugh reached her ears and eased the weight of her troubles for a brief moment. A moment she wanted to cherish before being forced to face another shitstorm.

Calvin parked his truck behind Dean's in his driveway as Dean stepped outside, Boo bounding out in front of him. A hum of contentment curled the corners of Calvin's mouth. He was so used to coming home to an empty house. It was nice to have someone to greet him. Especially someone who he could hash out the details of his long and trying day with.

Dean waved an arm overhead, a wide grin splitting his face. "Hope you don't mind my stopping by. Wanted to see Boo and hear how things went today. I did a little digging. I'm getting antsy without a badge."

Calvin clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder, ran a hand over Boo's soft fur, then led the way into the house. "Glad to have you here. Especially if you've made any kind of headway on this case, because Lord knows Jenna and I haven't." He turned into his office and collapsed into the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room. Exhaustion made his limbs heavy.

Dean shoved the ottoman away from the chair and sat, leaning against the dark blue wall. "So you and Jenna were working together today, huh? What's that been like?"

Calvin snatched a throw pillow behind his back and threw it at Dean.

Dean laughed and tossed the pillow on the floor. "She's gotten under your skin. I can tell."

He shrugged. "I haven't talked to her in so long—haven't seen her. Hell, I've avoided any mention of her like the damn plague for years."

"Understandable," Dean said. "Gina left me and I put as much distance between her and I as I could. No way I could stay in the same town."

"Apparently you're smarter than me," Calvin said with a small snort. "But who could have guessed she'd show up on my doorstep asking for help to solve her sister's murder? It's all so freaking twisted, man. She's in a rough spot. I thought I could ask some questions for her, keep my distance, then move on. I'm not so sure that's the case anymore."

"I feel bad for Jenna," Dean said. "But right now, she's not my concern. You are."

Calvin worked his jaw back and forth and tried to put a voice to the storm brewing inside him. "I'm struggling. I slammed the door shut on Jenna years ago. Shoved away any lingering feelings, but those feelings never went away. That's why I've avoided her all this time."

Boo whined and clamored over to sit in front of Calvin, resting his furry head on his lap as if to offer support.

Sympathy flooded Dean's brown eyes. "Being around her has to be tough. But what happened between you two was so long ago. Still having feelings for her must mean something. Don't you think?"

Calvin ran his palm over Boo's head and weighed his words. Talking about Jenna wasn't something he was all that comfortable with, but he had to do something. No way he could survive another day with Jenna front and center in his mind. "She apologized today. For how things went down. But is that enough to forget what she did? To forgive and move on and see if something still exists between us?"

Dean twisted his mouth to the side. "I think that's a question you should ask Jenna. Not me. For what it's worth, if Gina apologized and changed her mind, I'd take her back in a second. I saw what you and Jenna had, where you two were heading. Love like that is special, usually only once in a lifetime. Do you want to go the rest of your life without having that again?"

Calvin squirmed at the thought of having this conversation with Jenna. Just because she finally said she was sorry for what had happened didn't mean she wanted to be with him. Didn't mean she still loved him. "Jenna and I can't dive into all that now. We have more pressing issues, and so do you and I. Grab your computer and let's get to work. I've got some things to keep you busy."

He needed to concentrate on facts. Needed to lose himself in his job, where things made sense, not get lost in what-ifs.